


Welcome To Your Gory Bed

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Confrontations, F/M, Gen, Gun battle, Hurt Isaac, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mafia AU, Mob Boss!Derek, Mob Boss!Scott, Police Officer!Danny, Police Officer!Jackson, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, There's a reason behind the titles, This is the first part of an ongoing series, Violence, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mafia AU.</p>
<p>The Pack and the Hunters are the two big bad's on Beacon Hills territory, with a long history violence and bad blood has kept a war ongoing for longer than it should have. The shaky truce they once held is just about severed and it seems it was the Argent's intention to do just that.</p>
<p>The Pack must do their hardest to fight for their lives, for their territories, all the while figuring out who's being upping the body count of the innocent within their land's borders. And with the Argent heir being held in their basement, things just got a whole lot more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a requested for a Mafia AU on tumblr that kind of ran away from me and became multi chaptered.
> 
> Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)

This was a bad idea. This was almost certainly a bad idea. Why did no one else think it was a bad idea?

Stiles stood where he always did, at Scott’s right, and even he could see all the places where they could get ambushed, where something could go terribly wrong. There could be snipers hiding in the shadows of the high ceiling. There could be enemies prepared to sneak up behind them, hiding in the corners the light can’t reach, until the opportune moment. There could be a fricking bomb ready to go off at the order. Okay, it was a bit extreme. This was mafia violence, not terrorism, but if he were completely honest, he wouldn’t put it past the Hunters to move out of the box.

In his experience, they were unpredictable killing machines that had no mercy or remorse about dragging innocent teenagers into their violence. They just didn’t care, as long as it got the job done, and with the Pack being the Hunters main competition (although archenemies was probably a better description for the animosity between both sides) it was only logical to assume that taking out the majority of the Pack in one fell swoop would be an advantage.

They wouldn’t though, Stiles was sure about that at least.  They would want to play first, to prove they had outsmarted them. What’s the point in killing the Pack, if the Hunters couldn’t taunt them first? Besides, the Pack had been briefed and were on alert for anything. They didn’t attack anyone until their guard was down, and that was unlikely to happen.

“They’re late,” Derek commented with a frustrated sigh, folding his arms across his chest. He was agitated, barely restraining his anger.

“Maybe they stood us up,” Isaac suggested.

“Yes, they stood us up, and we should make like broken-hearted dates and make our way home to drown our troubles in ice cream,” Stiles insisted hopefully.

Derek gave him an unimpressed look, and Scott suppressed a grin.

“No, they’re coming,” Scott said certainly, “They can’t resist the chance to come and mock us.”

Stiles sighed, deflating. “It just doesn’t feel right. It feels…trap like.”

“Everything feels like a trap to you,” Erica pointed out.

“Yes, but how often am I right about these things?” Stiles reminded.

“He has a point,” Cora agreed, folding her arms across her chest and mimicked her elder brother’s position.

“Enough, we’re here. We know the plan,” Derek said firmly.

“Yeah, but they’ll have one too,” Boyd murmured.

Whatever debate that would have commenced was cut short by the sound of sliding metal on the other side of the warehouse lot. Street lights shone through the cracked door and the silhouettes of approaching figures. Automatically, the Pack fell into their formations, hackles rising. However divided they might be on what they were doing, when faced with an adversary, they were a unit, however long it had taken them to get to this stage.

Kate was at the head, as she usually was, and Stiles could see the slow tense of Derek’s shoulders. He wasn’t completely sure about their past together, although he knew it had something to do with the destruction of the Hales, the leading family in the Pack. He had asked about it a few times, thought he might be able to bug the truth out of Derek, but the Alpha only got angry and frustrated, snapped at him and walked away before he could do (much) damage. Stiles guessed it was a sensitive subject, for Derek anyway. Kate always looked oddly smug when she encountered the Pack Alpha.

“Derek, long time no see,” she smirked, “I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me.”

“I don’t,” Derek said shortly.

Her expression was one of feigned insult. “Derek, I’m shocked. And with our history…”

“We’re here to talk about the bodies,” Scott interjected, drawing attention skilfully away from Derek before his control snapped.

Kate’s eyes moved to the younger man. “And you must be…Scott, right? I remember you, hard to forget those puppy dog eyes. Aren’t you a little…young to be an Alpha?”

“The bodies, Kate,” he pushed insistently.

She pouted. “Boo, not even a little foreplay before we get down to the nasty.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Stiles folded his arms across his chest.

“As far as I’m aware, you haven’t asked me a question yet,” Kate’s voice was tight.

“You want a question. Fine. What do you know about the bodies?” Derek questioned.

“What bodies?” Chris, Kate’s elder brother, asked, stepping forward. It was clear by the confusion on his face that he was oblivious to what had happened.

“Amanda Young, Eric Taylor and George Wilson,” Lydia recited from memory, “They were found three weeks apart within our territory lines.”

“And it wasn’t us,” Scott added.

“And what makes you think it was us?” Gerard, their father, asked, a personification of ‘relaxed’, which set Stiles’ teeth on edge. Why was he so content where he was now?

Derek shrugged. “There’s only two of us. These were mafia styled hits. It’s got to be one of us.”

“Is this way of confessing?” Kate tilted her head, curiosity seeping into her voice.

Oh yes, something was wrong. The Hunters portrayed the image of people who preyed on the predator, hence their name. There were some shaky truces that were still in place and one of the reasons the Pack and the Hunters never met like this was because it only brewed hatred between them. Hate leads to war and fights that wipe them all out, because once started, there was only one way it was going to stop. “Do you confess?” she said. They’re looking for a reason to start full out war, he realised.

“No, it’s our way of figuring out what the hell is going on,” Scott corrected.

“Like you said, it could only be one of us,” Kate took a step forward, “If not, who else?”

“We don’t know,” Derek admitted.

It was then that Stiles interrupted, drawing attention to him. He had to stall and get them out of there quickly. What else could he do? “And obviously you don’t, so it’s been fun and stuff, but we should go now. Maybe, uh, step back and regroup when we have something right? We’ll get them!”

The jerk of his hands urged the pack backwards and automatically, the Omegas and the rest of the Betas did as asked. Derek turned to him with a sharp gaze, silently demanding to know what the hell was happening.  Stiles’ eyes darted to the corners and back to the Hunters. Realisation clicked in Derek’s eyes and Scott caught on quickly enough, although he had already moved to join Stiles’ side at the first gesture.

“Going so soon?” Gerard arched an eyebrow.

Kate’s grin was wicked. “Yeah, the party is just getting started.”

As if that was the order, guns were drawn and shots were fired. A trap, Stiles had warned, one they weren’t expecting, but it doesn’t mean they weren’t prepared for it. Battle fields were places they had grown used to.

Boyd was the best shot, he took out two hunters on his retreat to higher ground.  Scott moved forward into the fray of bodies, his focus on Chris Argent, adjusting the aim every time the man moved. Derek’s eyes were trained on Kate, hatred burning in his gaze with all the emotions of a personal vendetta.

Lydia ducked and avoided the bullets. She wasn’t a shooter, more involved in hand to hand combat, and with a silent order from Scott, she sunk into the shadows and made an attempt to manoeuvre around the fray of bullets to get behind. Once behind them, Stiles knew that none of the Hunters would ever see her coming. She was like a cat. A strange redheaded cat goddess.

Stiles focused his attention on the foot soldiers closing in, shooting at ankles and hands, legs and arms. He never aimed anywhere vital. Maybe it was how he had grown up, with his father, the cop, but he never had any intention of killing someone, not unless it was the last option he had to protect those he cared about. He saw Isaac wince when he got shot in the shoulder but damn, the boy kept fighting, taking out his assailant with three shots.

Cora aimed at Gerard, her face set with determination that Stiles knew was just as personal as Derek’s fight with Kate. She wasn’t as good a shot as her brother, there was still a lot to learn in that field. If she could get closer – and Stiles could see she was trying to do that – she could probably take him out with her knives. They were the first thing she mastered and it was the only thing she loved to fight with. But it meant getting close, too close to someone already armed and willing to shoot, whether she’s still a teenager or not. Gerard’s face was twisted with what looked like thinly veiled amusement, covered up with sickening pleasure. There was always something about Gerard that never sat right with Stiles, but now he had realised why. It was because he enjoyed this too much. People’s pain, people’s suffering, most importantly, the Hales.

Cora wasn’t going to get close enough to cut him. Gerard wasn’t going to let her. The Hunters had planned this from the beginning. They’d chosen this specific location, this specific time where no one would be around. It wasn’t just about taking down the Pack, because that would be too easier. Where would the fun be in that, right? This was about taking some of them down, to leave them weak and vulnerable and ultimately, mourning their dead. Derek mourning his dead.

He and Cora never really got along. They’d butted heads probably more times than Stiles and Derek had. They were just too different, in personality, in skills, in experience. Jaded from the loss of her family, Cora didn’t trust easily whereas Stiles was happy-go-lucky. If his experience had hardened him, and he was sure that it had, he never showed it. (Also, Stiles couldn’t help but have a problem with the fact that Cora “wasn’t a dessert person” because that was just strange and creepy and wrong).

But they were pack, family, whether either of them would admit it out loud, and Stiles refused to let her die.

Gerard aimed for her hand first, the gun falling from her hand upon impact, leaving her open. That’s when Stiles stepped in.

And by stepped in, he means stepped in.

He pushed Cora out of the way with the full weight of his body. The gun fired, and he let out a grunt with it hit him. Right shoulder, went straight through; missed the bone thank god. It could have been so much worse.  He held onto the wound, wincing in pain when he made to sit up. Cora was staring at him, but he didn’t have time. Scrambling with his gun, he aimed and fired as quickly as he could, careful of Lydia’s movement behind the men and women. His aim wasn’t as good as it usually was – he got a few men in the arm, in the chest – and he caught Gerard at the neck.

Derek and Kate’s fight was hand to hand now, Derek holding onto Kate’s neck tightly in the crook of his elbow. She lashed out violently, hands scratching along his cheek, forcing him to let her go quickly. She slid across the floor, sprawled, breathing heavy and steeled ice in her gaze. Derek’s fists clenched and he took a step forward threateningly.

“Derek, we need to go, now,” Scott shouted the order. The shooting had died down, most of the entourage having taken hits. Chris seemed to be the only one that was standing up straight and unharmed, and yet he didn’t try to fire. Stiles guessed he felt the same way about the fighting as Scott did.

Derek slowed but didn’t stop. Kate made a beckoning gesture, taunting him forward.

“Derek, seriously, now,” Scott tried again, “This is unnecessary death.”

“No deaths are unnecessary,” Gerard exclaimed in return. The hard grip he had on his gun made it seem almost as if he had no idea that he was bleeding from his neck.  Must have just been a graze, Stiles mused, perhaps a little disappointedly.

Stiles’ vision was blurring a little at the edges, from pain mostly. Although getting shot was something of a common occurrence in their field of work, it wasn’t exactly something he was used to. His pain threshold was low. He moved shakily to his feet, stumbling a little, and didn’t loosen the pressure on his hand, the blood now seeping through the fingers.

“Derek, this is a battle for later,” Boyd was at their Alpha’s side.

“Besides, that bitch isn’t worth it,” Erica retorted. Kate’s eyes narrowed at the girl.

Derek had stopped now. It was clear by the tension in his body that he wanted to just lurch forward and jump, but he resisted. He glanced over his shoulder at his pack, sweeping over each of them individually. Isaac was supporting himself against a wall, and Erica was bleeding from her thigh. Boyd was unharmed, it seemed, and Scott and Cora were torn up. His eyes landed on Stiles, who smiled as his nothing was wrong. Of course, Derek didn’t buy that, not that he could ignore the blood, and his eyes narrowed with pain and frustration and Stiles just knew when they got back to the Den, he was going to be scolded and then babied.

Derek was such a Den Mother sometimes.

He turned back to the Argents, his gaze hard. “Deal with your wounded and your dead. We’ll deal with ours. This doesn’t need to descend into war.”

“Oh, sweet clueless Derek, you don’t get it do you?” Kate stood up slowly, the sneer in her voice even though it was weak from being pushed about, “There’s already a war. There has been for years. We’ve just graduated from a cold war into something a little…hotter,” she smirked dangerously.

“But it doesn’t have to end tonight,” Chris interrupted, taking a step forward. “Do what you have to do and we’ll do the same. No more gun fire tonight.”

Derek nodded jerkily in response and Scott dipped his head in a sigh of expectance. A not all so mutual parting it seemed, judging by the thunderous looks on Kate and Gerard’s face, but it was a pause to a battle that was sure to be finished and soon. But it was enough.

They got back to the cars unharmed. Erica, Boyd, Scott and Cora went in one car; Stiles, Derek, Lydia and Isaac in another. The wheels screeched as they drove away, just above the speed limit.

“What the hell happened?” Derek gritted out, his eyes darting from the road to Stiles in the passenger’s seat every second or so. His grip flexed on the steering wheel.

“Relax dude, it’s barely a graze,” Stiles tried to soothe.

Derek snorted in response. “You’ve bleeding on the upholstery. That’s not a graze. Damn it, Stiles.”

“I was protecting Cora,” Stiles defended himself, “Gerard would have killed her if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“You didn’t have to step in front of the bullet to save her,” Derek argued.

“I didn’t exactly have time to think of any other way, okay?” Stiles defended, “It was instinct!”

“You could have died, pretty crappy instincts to me,” he grumbled in reply, and Stiles’ eyes narrowed angrily.

“So what, it is okay for you to take a bullet to safe us but we can’t do jack shit to save each other?” Stiles laughed mockingly, “Of course that’s how it works but it’s not as if you’re our leader or something, and that was don’t need you to, I don’t know, lead us.”

Derek’s knuckles turned white. “You know I-“

“Just in case either of you are wondering,” Isaac interjected and waved his free hand, the one that Lydia wasn’t working on, slightly, “I’m okay too – ow!”

He flinched, his hand jerkily away. Lydia huffed, gripping the hand tightly and glared darkly. “Keep still pup, I’m almost done.”

Isaac returned the glare. “You know you could be gentle about it,” he complained.

Lydia smiled with fake sweetness. “Now why would I do that?” She pulled away, “There, I’ve put pressure on the wound. It should last until we get back to the Den and then we can get Deaton to check you out. Once he gives you the all clear, I can kill you for scaring me like that.”

His glare let up slightly and he barked out a breathy laugh. “And I thought you didn’t scare easily.”

Stiles groaned and thumped his head against the back of the chair. “New rule: no flirting in the back of the SUV when I’ve just been shot.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Isaac teased.

Stiles scoffed. “God no, no offense Lyds, I love ya, but why on earth would I want to date someone who could kill me in my sleep when I piss them off?  Too much tension there, you know.”

“You have no idea what else I could do Stilinski,” Lydia smirked.

Stiles’ nose wrinkled at the implication behind the words. “Ew, gross, no. I don’t need that kind of information.”

“I’d like some information,” Derek announced suddenly, diverting the attention of the car back to him. One of his hands had realised the wheel and was resting on the rear view mirror, something he had adjusted. His eyes were narrowed. “Can anyone tell me why there’s a girl in the trunk of my car?”

Lydia shifted in her seat. “Yeah, about that…”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second chapter is up! Sorry this took so long, but I was in Florida for two weeks and then I was trying to figure out exactly where I want this story to go. I think I have everything worked out so hopefully, everything will go smoothly and without plot holes.
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd because mine is dealing with exercise related tiredness and the inability to answer her phone. Also, because I just really wanted to get this posted for you, so if there are any mistakes, they'll be editted later.
> 
> Also remember, comments are love <3

Lydia wasn’t stupid. She knew what world she was in, she knew the dangers. Before she had joined forces with the Hales, or perhaps more specifically Derek because of her less than stellar encounters with the previous Alpha, Peter Hale, she had been the BANSHEE. Professional assassin.

Not that anyone knew.

Well, Derek knew and she suspected Stiles knew because he knew pretty much everything about them.

It wasn’t a part of her life she was entirely proud of. Initially, it had been a way to keep control over her life when it had spiralled so quickly into chaos. And then it was because, well, it was fun, if nothing else. It was a game. She gathered intel, she killed, she screamed and watched the police, specifically Detective Whittemore, wander around in frustrated bafflement as the body count rose.

She was good at her job, and more importantly, she was good at not drawing attention to herself. Not until it was absolutely necessary, which is why she understood why Derek was so furious with her. Taking a hostage, especially such a high risk one was...not what one would consider smart.

Derek had fumed silently in the car ride back to the Den, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. Stiles, whose hand gripped at his bleeding arm tightly, kept glancing between Derek and Lydia, as if expecting something to explode, and Isaac was pretending he didn’t notice the tension in the car. When they pulled up, Derek practically yanked Stiles out of the car, ignoring his yelp of pain, and pushed him roughly towards Erica.

“Stitch him up,” he growled out the order.

Erica rolled her eyes and Stiles glared, grumbling something about sour wolves and dumbass alphas as he followed the blond towards the bathroom and, more importantly, the first aid kit. And then attention turned to Lydia and the brunette that Isaac was lifting over his shoulder from the back of the car.

“Uh, guys, this is Allison Argent,” Cora declared worriedly, brushing the curls away from the girl’s unconscious face. She looked up, watching her brother and Scott and then Lydia, who was staring stubbornly at Derek. “Why do we have Allison Argent here?” she demanded.

“Good question. Why don’t you ask Lydia? Give me a reason, and I won’t kick your ass,” Derek announced.

Lydia scoffed. “As if you could.”

“Lydia...” he gritted out.

“Look, I wouldn’t have done it unless I had to,” she defended.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me Lydia.”

“I told her to it,” Scott interjected.

The room went silent and Cora and Boyd sent each other mildly worried looks. The relationship between Scott and Derek was a strange one at the very least. When Scott had first joined, he had practically hated Derek and hadn’t been afraid to let him know. He had questioned everything and Cora couldn’t remember a time where her head wasn’t starting to ache from the amount of shouting contests the two had gotten into. But then the Hunters had happened, and Deucalion, and the Pack had regrown, and they’d come closer, thankfully. Scott and Derek had started to work together, to take their leadership seriously, but anyone with eyes could see there was still a power struggle there, still hints of mistrust. This...this probably wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” Derek asked harshly, “ _Alone_.”

He jerked his head towards the next room, the war room as it had been dubbed. Scott straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. They stared each other down before Scott nodded sharply and the two stormed off. To be honest, it was a little impressive that restraint was held until they were inside the soundproofed room.

Cora folded her arms uncertainty across her chest. Boyd dropped into one of the seats in the living room of their Den. Lydia stared with narrowed eyes at the closed door in the war room. Isaac adjusted his grip on Allison’s body

“Um, anyone know where I should put her?” he questioned awkwardly.

“Put her in one of the spare rooms,” Lydia told him after a moment of silence, “The one closest to mine should be safe enough.”

Isaac nodded, accepting the order, and made the follow it.

“Isaac,” Boyd’s voice stopped him, and he turned slightly, “Use handcuffs.”

He nodded jerkily in response.

*

“Would you just - _ow_!” Stiles hissed angrily and jerked his arm away violently, “Hey, _stop it_!”

Erica scoffed and rolled her eyes in exasperated. “Don’t be such a baby, Stilinski,” she retorted before jamming the needle and thread back into his arm with more force than necessary.

“Be gentle!” Stiles whined, “I’m injured.”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” Erica looked unimpressed.

Stiles frowned. “Gerard would have shot Cora.”

“Yeah, and instead, he shot you,” she pointed out.

Stiles decided not to reply. He just clenched his jaw and let Erica finish stitching him, without complaint. Objectively, he understood why Erica would have been so frustrated with him. He probably would - and had - felt frustrated and angry whenever one of the others got hurt. He always felt as if he should have done something; that he could have done something, and it would bug him for days until they moved without injury. Personally, it irked Stiles that it was felt he shouldn’t have done something that helped a member of the Pack. What, was he supposed to just let Cora get shot? Was he supposed to let Derek lose is last sane family member to the Hunters?

No.

He’d never do that to Derek or the Pack.

Erica sighed heavily, dropping her hands when she was finished. “Look, we all appreciated what you did, okay. You saved the Alpha’s sister. But you got hurt and you know how much one of us getting hurt freaks out the others.”

Stiles’ smiled slightly. “Yeah, I know,” he moved his shoulder a little, testing and grimaced.

“It’ll be like for a while, I’d avoid gun fights for a while,” Erica advised.

Stiles snorted. “How about we all do, and then I won’t have to do something as stupid as jumping in front of a bullet again?”

“I think we’re in the wrong world for that, don’t you?” The door to the bathroom swung open and Cora stood there, arms folded across her chest and her eyes focused solely on Stiles.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed awkwardly. He slid from where he was sitting on the sink, feet touching the floor.

Erica glanced between them cautiously before standing up from the toilet seat. “I’m going to go see what Boyd’s up to.”

“No making out on the sofa,” Stiles called out, “It’s a teenage hormone free zone.”

Erica smirked. “No promises.”

Cora and Stiles were left alone. Cora stood almost just the uncomfortable side of tense, watching Stiles curiously. Stiles leant back against the sink and cleared his throat, reaching up with his non-injured arm and scratched the back of his neck.

It was Stiles that gave into breaking the silence first. “Are you…is everything okay?”

“You took a bullet for me,” she responded, instead of answering the question.

He glanced down at his bare shoulder, the skin red and the dark stitches seeming to stand out stark making everything look sore and so much worse than it felt (and it felt kind of terrible). He returned his gaze to Cora. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“I…” Cora faltered off, “I just…” she huffed, “Thank you, for doing…that.”

Stiles blinked a little surprised. He didn’t actually think he had heard Cora say anything to anybody, ever really. “Um, it’s fine? Really. I…it’s not really that big of a deal.”

“No one’s ever taken a bullet for me,” she retorted.

“And that makes me…special?” Stiles tried, uncertain. Although, he had to admit, he was always unsure when it came to the minds the Hales, whether they’re insane or not. They had the best of poker faces.

“It means that I owe you one,” Cora corrected.

“No, Cora, really, you don’t have to-“he attempt to reassure, a little panicked. The idea of someone being in his debt, yeah, not one he liked very much.

She waved him off. “Shut up. I do. I…It’s a Hale thing. We honour of debts.”

“There is no debt,” Stiles insisted, “I’m holding nothing above your head. There is nothing you have to repay or honour. If you have to do something, bring me ice cream. That means like a cool and non-lethal way for you to repay if you’re determined.” He took a step forward, “I didn’t push you away to become part of some score system. You’re Pack, you’re family. I’m a Beta, it’s my job to protect you guys. I would have done the same if it were Isaac in trouble, or Boyd or even Derek.”

“I know you would,” Cora told him, “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just let this go.” It sounded like the end of a conversation to Stiles, but not an end of the topic and there was another thing about Hale’s that Stiles had realised – they are ridiculously stubborn and impossible to argue with.

Stiles sighed, accepting his defeat, for now at least. He gave Cora a tight smile and made to leave but was stopped by a hand on his good arm. He shot her a questioning look.

“The girl that Lydia took, she’s Allison Argent. She’s the one that supposed to take over Kate when the hunter falls,” she stated.

“Shit,” Stiles cursed. He could only imagine how bad this was going to be. And that was very, very bad.

Cora hummed her agreement to the sentiment. “Apparently, it was under Scott’s direction.”

“Shit,” he repeated. He ran a hand over his face. “Right, where are they?”

“War room. You should probably going in there to stop them from killing one another,” she told him.

“I’m injured. Why are you sending me into a battle field?” Stiles whined.

“Because you and I both know that you’re the only one that can talk some sense into them,” Cora reminded pointedly, much to his chagrin. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, “We also know that Scott wouldn’t have done this without reason.  He wouldn’t put us in that much danger.”

“I think we should just leave them for a bit. You know, maybe Derek can get his aggression out on someone that isn’t me, and Scott can learn to make sure everyone is involved in the voting process before he does things that affect all of us,” Stiles said hopefully.

Cora arched an eyebrow and Stiles sighed, “Okay, fine, I’ve got it. Send me into the wolves den, why not? It’ll be a ball. Just, ah, help me put my shirt back on?”

She smirked a little at him but did as he asked. Stiles winced at the pull of the wound and he knew that it was going to be a bitch to deal with from now on. Why were there always consequences for good deeds? He rubbed at the raised injury with careful fingers.

“Hey, can that count as you repaying your debt?” Stiles questioned hopefully as he followed Cora out of the bathroom.

She didn’t even turn around. “Not at all.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I thought not.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, inspiration for this had kind of died on me, but it has come back and now you have a third chapter :P

 

Lydia gasped and moaned unashamed, her hips jerking upwards and her hands tightening painfully in the curls on the back of Isaac’s head. He hissed at the feeling and pulled away from her sharply to glare over the folds of her skirt that was bunched up around her waist.

“You do realise there’s a person attached to that right?” he reminded her gruffly.

She rolled her eyes and urged his head back to where she needed it. He resisted for a moment, although that was mostly out of principle than anything else, because damn it, Lydia needed to know that not everyone would bow to her whims, before he allowed himself to get lead back to the space between her legs and grinned triumphantly when he brought a strangled cry from her lips.

Relationships were hard in their world. People got hurt, died, all the time and it’s hard to be cute and adorable with someone when you are very much aware that they could kill you in six different ways, and Lydia especially knew how to do it in ten, and make them all look like an accident. Besides, she was a Beta, his superior. He defaulted to her should Derek or Scott be unavailable and he couldn’t say how hard it was to follow orders that put her in any kind of danger. Even during the confrontation with the Hunters, he hadn’t been able to stop his heart lurching just a little in panic when she had disappeared from his line of sight, behind a mess of falling bodies. He had shook it off, said it was stupid and that Lydia was more than capable of looking after herself, but the feeling never receded.

That was why he needed this, to feel her underneath him, moving and moaning and very much alive.

And there was no denying the fact Isaac enjoyed the fact that he could bring this confident, powerful woman to an incoherent mess with just a few licks. Her nails scraped along his scalp and he shivered, his hips rolling against the mattress for a moment before he controlled himself and he sucked with new vigour.

“Oh, fuck-” she cursed, her eyes squeezing shut and her thighs quaked around his face.

Isaac laughed happily against her slit, felt her shudder and let his tongue push deeper until she could only make loud wordless noises that meant she was close, god she was so close. Isaac sucked, licked with new determination, the tip of his tongue flicking against her clit, pressing just enough to toe her to the edge before he added pressure and she came with a cursed sob, rocking down onto him, and he hummed happily, nuzzling his face against the sticky wetness.

A sudden thump broke his revelry from the wall to his left, and then another, firmer this time. He cracked one eye open and looked over the red hair to the Beta’s face. She was flushed and sweaty and, much to his disappointment, he could already see the tension and the weight of the job returning to her shoulders. He sighed in defeat, silent acceptance that their time alone was over, and allowed himself for a few more moments of closeness before he reluctantly pulled away.

“Sounds like Argent’s up,” Isaac commented, his voice thick.

Lydia made a noise of agreement and sighed. “She has the worse timing.”

“You’re the one who put her in the room next to yours,” Isaac reminded pointedly, “If you didn’t want to keep her close...”

“I’m sorry, how selfish of me,” Lydia rolled her eyes and smiled fondly at him.

He grinned, and crawled up the bed, his arms on either side of her head and he rested in the curve of her spread legs. “Don’t worry, I forgive you,” he joked.

“I am grateful,” Lydia murmured and tilted her head to press a kiss to his lips.

There was another thump and the couple broke with a sigh, Isaac dropping his head to Lydia’s shoulder.

“I suppose I should go deal with her,” Isaac stated reluctantly, beginning to pull away, and he was stopped by a firm hand against his arm.

“Not you,” she told him firmly. He opened his mouth to object but she continued, “If you go to her in this state,” he jumped when her hand - when the hell did her hand get down there again? - grasped around his clothed cock and rubbed teasingly, “you’ll scare her half to death.”

“Uh, g-good point,” Isaac looked sheepish, his hips twitching towards the touch of her hand.

“We’ll get Scott,” Lydia announced.

Isaac tilted his head. “He’s in the War Room with Derek.”

“Then this can give Stiles a break from trying to stop them from tearing out each others throats,” she told him with a small shrug, “Besides, this was Scott’s plan. I was just the executor. He can deal with all the human interactions. I, on the other hand, have my own interactions to deal with.”

Her thumb traced along the head of his cock, pressing firmly through the fabric of his underwear and Isaac gapped. “Y-yes, definitely Scott. Scott can deal with Argent and you can - oh shit - keep doing that.”

Isaac didn’t think it was possible for someone’s laugh to sound like darkness and bells and evil amusement, but once again, Lydia proved to be the exception.

  


*

  


Allison Argent regretting her decision.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be there, at the confrontation. She had been told by Kate and she’d been told by her grandfather that things could get dangerous and considering who she was, who she would become, she had to stay safe and the only way to do that was to stay hidden. That was something that had been drilled into her since she was born, she wasn’t likely to forget it.

But god, she hated that rule.

The compound that she grew up on was great and all - it was home - but she wanted more. Allison wanted to see more, to do more. She didn’t just want stories of what life was like; she wanted to live it. She wanted to know her enemies first hand; not just the horror stories she had grown up with. She wanted to fight with people who weren’t too afraid to make it a challenge for her in case they hurt her.

_And look what that got you_ , the voice at the back of her head taunted her. _You sneak out once and you taken hostage by the enemy. Well done._

Allison gritted her teeth with renewed angry and kicked at the wall to her right. There were people on the other side, she could hear them loud and clear, low mumbles of their voices along with laughter and moans - jeez was it really necessary to do that there? Surely they had other things to do with their time than _that_ \- and she damn well had to make sure that her displeasure for being knocked out, taken god knows where and chained to the headboard of a bed was known.

She didn’t get a response, not that she had the other four times, but by now her frustration had boiled into anger and she shouted when she pulled violently on her cuffs. The chain pulled taut and the metal of the cuffs bit harshly into her wrists. Allison bit back a curse and leant towards the hold in an attempt to lower the pressure.

All at once she felt...defeated, and trapped. She had really screwed up this time, hadn’t she? She dropped on to the bed, legs pulled to her chest, not relaxing, never relaxing, but she just didn’t have the energy to sit up anymore. Allison’s eyes damped with bitter tears, itching and burning, and she clenched them shut because she refused to cry. She sniffed and drew in a harsh breath.

No, she couldn’t fall apart. She was a Hunter.  She was an Argent.  She could figure a way out of here. Of course she could, was there any doubt?

Allison managed to push herself back onto her knees, when the door at the other end of the room clicked and the handle turned and panic rose quickly within her. She stumbled off the bed, standing up straight and forcing herself into the furthest corner of the room. Yes, it pulled at her bruising wrists a little but she wasn’t going to be a willing victim in this. Her shoulders tensed and her legs locked together, as the door swung open.

She had been told a lot about the Pack growing up, mostly from Gerard and mostly about the fact that they were just overgrown animals that could masquerade as a part of human society. As a child, she had always imagined them as hunk like creatures with too much body hair, rotten teeth and an evil snarl. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at them all before she was taken - hovering at the back of a warehouse, trying not to get seen would do that - but well, this one wasn’t what she had imagined.

He wasn’t huge or hairy. He was slight with the face of a high school sweetheart than that of a violent gang member, with wide brown eyes and black curls that fell over his forehead. He wasn’t even dressed like the professional he was supposed to be. He was in sweatpants and a sleeveless top that revealed harsh shoulders and muscled arms, two black bands tattooed on his right arm. He stepped forward slowly on bare feet and closed the door behind him carefully.

He took another step closer and Allison tensed even more, her neck pressing against the cold bar of the headboard. He stopped.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her.

She snorted but said nothing else.

“I’m Scott,” he introduced himself, his feet sliding closer to the bed, “And I promise you that no one is going to hurt you here.”

Allison didn’t believe him, how could she, but she was stumped by the sincerity in his voice. Why would he promise that? All her training for hostage situations - and there had been a lot of them in her training growing up - and she fell back to it desperately in search of what to do or say to get the upperhand, to try and understand what was happening.

“ _They lie Allison_ ,” Kate had told her once, “ _And they will continue to lie, to make you trust them, until you give them what they want - and then they’ll kill you. Simple as. Those animals don’t care whether they kill an innocent or even a child, so don’t think that’ll protect you. The only way to beat them, is to play at their own game. Lie. Lie well.  Make them believe you._ ”

Allison swallowed and straightened up, her exterior becoming more controlled. Just like she had been taught. “C...can I get that in writing?”

Scott grinned, amused. “If it makes you feel more assured, sure.” He took another step and Allison eyed the distance between him and the bed. Seven steps, maybe. “Do you need anything?”

“Um, I don’t know, maybe you could loosen these ties a little,” she tugged at the chains a little.

“I was thinking more on the lines of food or water,” Scott pointed out.

Allison hummed, feigned thought. “No, I still think I’d prefer to be let go.”

Scott’s eyes moved over the chains. “If you sat on the bed, they probably wouldn’t bruise your wrists as much as they are now.”

Allison blinked surprised for a moment before recovering. “Well, if you let me go, you wouldn’t have to worry about my wrists, would you?”

“And then what would I do with my time?” Scott mocked.

“Go back to raping, killing and pillaging?” she offered with a tight smile, which faltered at the edges when Scott laughed.

“Oh, but if that’s what you think we do, then do you endorse those actions?”

“Of course not,” she spat out instinctively, aghast.

“Then it must be better to spend my time worrying about your wrists. Keeps me out of trouble,” Scott said, entertained. He took a step back, towards the door, “I’ll send something for you to eat.”

Allison scrambled a little as he made to leave, caught between worry at being left alone again and irritation at giving him the upper hand. She ignored the pain as metal bit into flesh. “The Hunters will be looking for me,” she stated confidently.

Scott paused and nodded, acceptingly. “Yes, probably.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We’re good trackers. You should be worried.”

“I’ll be sure to write that down in my diary, lest I forget again,” he assured her, still uncaring.

“They’ll kill you all.” Allison snapped.

“Not if we get there first.” Scott’s eyes hardened before relaxing, the softness that was there before coming back to the edges, “Relax, Allison. Your stay here will be easier that way.”

She sat back surprised. She hadn’t been allowed out of the compound for a reason. No one was supposed to know about her, a safety precaution (which became even more necessary when her mother had died when she was four) as well as a military strategy to surprise the Pack when she came to fight. But they knew. They knew who she was. Fuck.

“How?” Allison whispered out the word, harsh and angry.

“A mutual friend who cares about you, and doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“A mutual friend that hands information over to the enemy?” She glared.

Scott smiled knowingly, perhaps a little sympathetic and pitying and god, did she hate that. “Just relax,” he told her soothingly, “You’re safe here.”

After he left, if Allison screamed until her voice faded; if she kicked the wall until her feet bruised; if she banged the headboard until her head ached; if she woke up the whole damn house, she didn’t care. She may be their hostage, she may have no idea why she was here or what the Pack were planning, but for damn sure, she wasn’t going to accept submissively.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping I wrote the first interaction with Scott and Allison without making either look stronger or weaker than the other. If I did, let me know because that wasn't my intention.
> 
> Let me know what you think overall while you're at it, either here or on my [tumblr](http://imthekeptainnow.tumblr.com) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the war poem "Bannockburn" by Robert Burns.
> 
> I have [tumblr](http://imthekeptainnow.tumblr.com)


End file.
